


some kind of heaven i haven't seen yet

by aster (diphylleias)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Drama & Romance, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Past Character Death, Supernatural Elements, guardian angel hyuck human disaster mark lee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-08-19 20:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20215453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diphylleias/pseuds/aster
Summary: Mark has a limited number of days left, and Donghyuck works as a guardian angel. Somewhere along the funny, flimsy intersection of life and death—they meet.





	1. play me a song that you like

Friday night has faded blurrily into the dark, quiet hours of Saturday morning when Mark jams his hand in his backpack and noisily hunts for the keys to his apartment, ready to crash headfirst into his beautiful, comfortable bed after a hectic dinner. His watch reads a bright _12:21 am_ as his fingers finally land on the worn-out cloth of his lanyard and he fishes out a small silver key.

With a small sigh, he opens the door to his apartment and quickly shuts it behind him, locking it and promptly hanging his keys up on the small hook next to his door. He sends a quick _I’m home, did u guys get home safe?_ text to the group chat before he tucks his phone into his pocket and walks into the kitchen.

“Wow,” comes a judgmental voice. “You sure do get home late.” Mark’s head snaps up and he realizes two things very quickly.

One, there is a literal fucking stranger in his apartment sitting on one of his kitchen stools, examining his embarrassing collection of colorful bendy straws with an extremely unimpressed face.

Two, there is a _literal fucking stranger_ in his apartment.

“What the hell?!” Mark yells out, immediately retreating back near his doorway and blindly grabbing for something, anything from his backpack. He settles on a pocket knife that he does his best to wave intimidatingly in front of him. The boy sitting in his kitchen looks around the same age as him, with caramel skin and messy dark brown hair that falls in his big eyes. He barely bats an eye at Mark’s panic, simply raising both his hands in surrender and letting out an exasperated noise.

“Hell doesn’t exist,” the boy answers absentmindedly, followed with a wary “I’m not going to hurt you, Mark,” He draws the words out slowly as though Mark is a baby, which only tightens Mark’s grip around his knife. The boy continues to stare at Mark in silence for a few moments, his eyes betraying nothing as both his hands remain raised.

Cautiously, Mark lowers the knife.

“Okay,” Mark swallows. And then, in rapid succession, “Who are you? Why are you in my apartment? Also how do you know my name? What the fuck?” His heart hammers loud and fast against his chest, as the stranger just quirks his lips. He doesn’t _look_ dangerous, Mark reasons with himself. The boy is only wearing a pair of worn out jeans and a purple hoodie that looks far too big on him.

“One at a time, please,” the boy replies, eyes positively twinkling.

“Who are you?” Mark asks carefully.

“Lee Donghyuck,” he says easily. “I’m your guardian angel.” Mark squints at him, looking for the telltale signs of barely restrained laughter and poor pranking.

He doesn’t find it.

“Guardian angel,” he repeats slowly. “You’re my guardian angel.”

“That’s right,” Donghyuck echoes back just as slow, clearly mocking him. “Good job, would you like a prize?”

“Shut up,” Mark answers reflexively, just slightly embarrassed, and Donghyuck looks _delighted_ at the response. “Listen, I don’t know what kind of elaborate joke this is or—”

“Here,” Donghyuck cuts him off abruptly, rolling his eyes. “Watch.” Without even waiting for Mark’s confirmation, Donghyuck straightens up and closes his eyes, mumbling something under his breath. They’re suspended in silence for a few seconds and before Mark is about to bolt or call the police or charge at him, Donghyuck starts honest-to-god _glowing._

A faint yellow light encircles the boy’s body, and he’s still mumbling with his eyes closed, unaware of Mark’s wide eyes and open mouth. Mark blinks once, twice, three times, and Donghyuck is still shining in his kitchen.

“There,” Donghyuck sighs, cracking his eyes open as the light falls away from his body. He eyes Mark’s expression with barely concealed amusement. “I know this must be a lot for your tiny brain,” he starts dramatically. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You’re not human?” Mark asks hesitantly, choosing to ignore Donghyuck’s implication of his brain size. And maybe the other boy is right, he isn’t the _brightest_, but even he’d be blind to miss the way Donghyuck’s smile falls off his face at Mark’s question.

“I used to be,” Donghyuck answers vaguely, looking down at Mark’s bendy straws again. Mark takes a few strides forward and hastily gathers up the colorful straws, shoving them back in the depths of one of his cabinets where they belong. Donghyuck’s smile comes back and Mark feels oddly accomplished, even if heat is creeping up the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“Used to be?” Mark echoes, taking a careful seat next to Donghyuck. The boy just sighs in response.

“Yeah,” he says quietly. “Now I’m not.” Then suddenly, he looks up at Mark again, something dancing in his eyes. “Want more proof?”

“Proof of what?” Mark asks dumbly, and before his mind can process what is happening, Donghyuck leaps up and off the stool. In one swift motion, Donghyuck turns on stove, cranks the knob to high, and sticks his fingers straight into the fire.

“Wh—hey!” Mark all but shouts, scrambling out of his seat. His reflexes are setting alarms off in his brain, as he goes to pull Donghyuck back from the stove, but the other has already turned the stove off. Donghyuck waves his unscathed fingers proudly in front of Mark’s face.

“I can’t really feel physical sensations,” Donghyuck goes on to explain, as he takes his seat again at Mark’s kitchen island. Idly, he presses his palm against the countertop as he continues talking. “I mean, I don’t pass through things—I’m not a _ghost_—but I just can’t feel anything.” He presses his palm in harder. “Is this cold?” Mark follows suit and presses his own hand against the countertop, wincing slightly.

“It’s freezing,” he answers emphatically, and Donghyuck just gives a small nod.

“Thought so,” Donghyuck says quietly. It seems just a tiny bit sad, and Mark suddenly scrambles for something else to fill the silence.

“So you couldn’t feel the fire?” He asks tentatively. Donghyuck laughs a little, his eyes crinkling attractively. 

“Nah,” Donghyuck replies airily. He fixes Mark with an amused look. “It’s always fun scaring you guys though—man, you should’ve seen your _face_.” He laughs again, and Mark finds himself staring. “You looked like you lost ten years off your life.”

“I mean,” Mark mumbles, “I want to go into med. I’m kinda,” he scratches the back of his neck, “I’m kinda always careful about things like cuts, or, you know, burning yourself.”

“Well Mr. Pre-Med,” Donghyuck drawls, “Here’s another mystery for you.” In the blink of an eye, Donghyuck grabs Mark’s hands and hold them in his own, nose wrinkling slightly. “I can’t feel physical sensations from objects, but I _can_ feel how hot your hands are right now,” he pauses. “And sweaty,” he adds on helpfully. Mark tries to pull his hands back at once, flustered, but Donghyuck’s cold hands refuse to let him go.

“I thought you were gonna kill me, okay?” Mark retorts back. Donghyuck grins and drops his hands. Mark immediately wipes his palms on his jeans. “Is it because you’re my guardian angel?” He asks carefully. “So you can feel me?”

“Damn,” Donghyuck whistles. “Guess your brain isn’t that small after all.” Mark resolutely ignores him.

“But why do I even need a guardian angel?” Mark asks. This night has been a lot of questions and not many helpful answers. He looks at Donghyuck and the other’s smile has disappeared from his face again. Mark decides he likes him better when he’s smiling.

“Usually,” Donghyuck begins carefully, not looking at Mark. “Guardian angels are only needed in the few minutes before and after someone’s death.” Mark’s stomach drops. “We typically just help guide souls to their next phase and make sure they don’t get lost on the way. Most of the time, humans don’t even see our face, they just see light.” Donghyuck looks back up at Mark, eyes unreadable. “That’s why we can glow, to help them find their way.”

“I’m going to die soon,” Mark realizes aloud, emptiness taking over his chest. The statement bounces loudly off the walls of his apartment and Donghyuck just looks at him quietly. Mark thinks he can see the smallest tinge of pity in the angel’s eyes.

“But,” Donghyuck continues on, neither confirming nor denying Mark’s words. “Occasionally there are a few special cases that require prolonged supervision,” He casts a glance at Mark. “Typically that means they have a strange affinity for near-death situations, which we have to prevent, because it disrupts the optimal window of time.”

“Uh,” Mark says, trying to process Donghyuck’s words as he stares at the heart that Donghyuck’s bangs fall into the shape of.

“Basically,” Donghyuck says patiently, and Mark’s eyes snap back to his face. “Everyone has an optimal window of time carved out for their death, and it’s my job to make sure you don’t die before your window opens.”

“You know the exact day of when I’m gonna die?” Mark asks incredulously. Death feels foreign and far away, and yet here he is, casually asking about his own expiration date. Briefly, Mark pinches himself on the thigh but gets nothing in return but a faint stinging in his leg. Donghyuck shakes his head.

“I don’t know the exact day,” he says, playing with his hair. “But I have an idea of when your window opens. Your problem,” he starts accusatorily, pointing a finger at Mark, “is that you tend to get into very dangerous, death-prone situations easily without realizing it. So I’m here to stop that.”

“No I don’t,” Mark frowns, brows furrowing. “What do you mean, death-prone situations?” Donghyuck rolls his eyes so hard they almost seem to disappear for a second, before he fixes Mark with another pointed look.

“Remember when that old piano fell down from the moving truck on the highway? And you barely managed to change lanes in time?” Donghyuck taps his fingers against the counter, lost in thought. “What about during the thunderstorm last week, when lightning struck the tree near you? Or, _or_, when you almost drowned while kayaking because you didn’t wear your stupid life vest?”

“Okay,” Mark says slowly. “That’s kinda creepy that you know all of that.”

“We have our ways,” Donghyuck shoots back mysteriously, smiling. “You really can’t deny the fact that you get into near-death situations often, though, you know?” Mark stays quiet at that, pursing his lips.

“So I’m gonna die soon,” Mark repeats, his voice barely a whisper. His heartrate is back to normal now, thumping slow and steady in his chest.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck sighs out quietly, his eyes softening. He takes one of Mark’s hands gently into his own, squeezing it. “I’m sorry. It fucking sucks, I know.” And it should sting, it should _hurt,_ but all Mark can do is nod numbly in response, hand tight around Donghyuck’s as he briefly runs through a list of people he needs to love extra hard in the time he has left.

“I think I’m gonna go to sleep,” Mark says belatedly, trying to stop himself from thinking any harder than he already has. His heart weighs heavy in his chest and he mourns the loss of Donghyuck’s hand as he stands up, steadying himself against the counter as he prepares to head to his room. Donghyuck just watches him silently, eyes following all his clumsy, tired movements. “Are you—” Mark pauses, thinking. “Do you need to sleep? I can take the couch.”

There’s a beat of silence, where Donghyuck just outright stares at Mark as if trying to piece him together.

“You’re too nice,” Donghyuck mutters. “Why would you sleep on the couch and not me? It’s your apartment.”

“Oh, I—I mean,” Mark stammers, off-balance for no reason. “You’re a guest? Kind of? I don’t know?”

“Angels don’t need to sleep, Mark,” Donghyuck says with a small smile. The kitchen lights shine down on his face and Mark stares absentmindedly at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t worry about me. Just go to bed.”

“This isn’t some weird dream, right?” Mark wanders aloud. He stares at Donghyuck, trying to memorize the curve of the boy’s lips and color of his hair. “Are you going to disappear when I wake up?”

Donghyuck shrugs. “Guess you’ll find out,” is all he says, the ghost of a smile dancing on his lips. Mark holds his gaze for several silent seconds before he just sighs, turning on his heel and heading to his room. Too tired to shower or brush his teeth, he collapses in bed with a loud groan of relief and before he knows it, his eyes start to droop and the world slowly begins to dim. The last thing he thinks of as he falls fully asleep is dark brown hair and sparkling eyes.

+

He wakes to the smell of coffee.

“No way,” Mark mutters to himself as the memories of last night come crashing back into his mind. He sits up and swings his legs firmly over the side of his bed. _It was definitely a dream_, he decides. Even if the dream had been strangely realistic and he still remembers the way Donghyuck had looked at him, soft and sad in the middle of the night.

But why does he smell _coffee_?

“Oh,” comes a familiar voice as he steps into the kitchen. “Good morning.” Mark stares in disbelief at Lee Donghyuck, standing in his kitchen as though he belongs there, squinting at his coffee machine. “I was trying to see if I still remember how to use these things,” Donghyuck explains nonchalantly, unaware of Mark’s racing mind. “I made you coffee, but just to warn you, it might taste awful.” He spares a glance at Mark, looking amused as he eyes what is presumably his bedhead.

“You’re not a dream,” Mark blurts out, still staring at the boy in his kitchen. Donghyuck stills, gingerly removing his hands from the coffee machine.

“Nope,” Donghyuck says loudly, popping the _p_. He grins at Mark. “Sorry to disappoint you. Nice hair by the way.”

“This is so weird,” Mark just grumbles in response, sidestepping Donghyuck to get to his coffee machine. “Are you just gonna live here now?” He pours the coffee into his trusty blue mug, peering at the drink. It looks normal enough, so he shrugs and grabs a small packet of his usual creamer.

“Don’t I get a thanks for the coffee?” Donghyuck shoots back annoyingly, nodding towards Mark’s mug.

“Thanks,” Mark mumbles, taking a sip. It tastes disappointingly good and he purses his lips before repeating his previous question. “So are you gonna live here now?”

“Kind of,” Donghyuck replies casually. “I mean, it’s my job to keep you safe, so.” He pauses, licking his lips briefly. “I’ll be following you around a lot. I won’t stick to you _all_ the time, don’t worry, but you’ll probably see enough of me to get sick of me soon.” He gives Mark a charming smile.

Mark bites his lips, hesitant. There’s still too much he can’t wrap his head around. Does he need to eat? Drink? Donghyuck had mentioned last night that he didn’t need to sleep, but then what would he do at night? What did he do _last _night? Could other people see him?

“I can hear you thinking too hard,” Donghyuck says suddenly, dispelling the silence. Mark stares at him, heart abruptly picking up the pace.

“You can hear thoughts too?” He asks nervously. Donghyuck looks at him for a second before he promptly bursts out laughing, a hand holding onto the counter for support as he laughs loud and bright in Mark’s apartment. He looks different in the daytime, the sun falling on the soft edges of his boyish face as the light shines off his teeth. Mark openly stares for a few seconds, finding it odd how _alive_ he looks.

“No, stupid,” Donghyuck laughs, “We can’t hear thoughts. You just looked like you were thinking a lot.” Without warning, he leans forward and flicks Mark’s forehead. At the offended look Mark sends him, he leans back with a satisfied look.

“But—”

“We don’t need to eat or drink,” Donghyuck answers his unasked question, sounding bored. “We can’t taste anything anyways. We can move easily between the human realm and the angel realm; that’s where I went last night after you fell asleep. No other human can see me aside from you, so you don’t need to worry about me following you around. Any other questions or concerns?” He mockingly clasps his hands together, as if he’s some sort of tour guide, and Mark feels his eye twitch.

“Are you sure you can’t hear my thoughts?” Mark asks again, eyes narrowed. Donghyuck’s smile grows wider.

“Aren’t you going to eat breakfast?” Is all Donghyuck says, still smiling. Mark presses his lips together and shuffles over to his pantry, grabbing a box of cinnamon toast crunch and trying to stop feeling unsettled under Donghyuck’s gaze. It’s _weird_, having another person in his apartment after he moved out of the dorms his sophomore year and stopped having roommates. Nevertheless, Donghyuck doesn’t say a word if he notices Mark’s internal turmoil and even helps him fetch the milk out of the fridge.

It all feels very domestic.

“So,” Mark finally breaks the silence. He knows he sounds awkward the moment he opens his mouth, but he pushes forward regardless. “How old are you?” He smartly goes to spoon some cereal into his mouth to keep himself from becoming too embarrassed, especially when Donghyuck is essentially just watching him eat.

“I was nineteen when I died,” Donghyuck answers simply, fiddling with his fingers. When he doesn’t elaborate, Mark carefully considers what to ask next.

“How long have you been doing this,” he gestures vaguely with his spoon. “Guardian angel stuff?” A drop of milk falls on the table. 

Donghyuck hums, grabbing a tissue to wipe the milk off quickly. “About a year, I think.”

“Oh,” Mark says in surprise. “You’re only like a year younger than me, then. I’m twenty-one.”

“So young,” Donghyuck sighs wistfully, as if he isn’t only a few years off himself. “These are your glory days. And you chose to study med?” His nose wrinkles. “Didn’t you ever have any, like” he moves his hand aimlessly, “big dreams?”

_Ah_, Mark thinks quietly. Now the conversation edges into familiar territory.

“Well,” Mark starts, pretending as though he hasn’t relayed this exact spiel countless times already. “I used to want to be an idol when I was younger.”

A spark of interest lights up in Donghyuck’s eyes. “And then…” He pushes Mark on, impatient.

And _then_, at the young and naïve age of thirteen, Mark had somehow passed the first round of auditions back home in Canada. Moving on to the second round meant flying out to Korea. He had been anxious, excited, so full of dreams he had been practically bursting at the seams, when his father had suddenly fell ill and was rushed to the hospital.

After a few days of careful deliberation, they decide to drop the plane ride and focus on saving money in order to pay for the increasing number of medical bills that are dropped on them. Like bricks, they sit heavy and unmoving on their hearts. Just shy of fourteen, Mark’s heart aches as his dreams start to fly away, but he worries more about his father’s lungs.

Eventually, they decide to move to Korea, where the healthcare is actually _affordable_, and Mark immerses himself in the city of Seoul as if he had been there his entire life. The language, the food, the culture: Mark clings to it as if it’s he only thing he has left. His future is a gamble, but he doesn’t think about rapping and dancing on stage anymore—he thinks about studying disease and examining cells.

He’s sixteen when his father passes away. He makes a promise to his mom and to himself, through shaky tears in a cramped hospital room that he’ll give all he has to saving as many lives as he can, and to healing as many people as possible. It’s kind of cliché, a little idealistic, maybe even a tad silly, but it’s him.

Donghyuck gives him a long, quiet look after he finishes explaining and Mark’s heart thumps oddly in his chest. “What?” He asks, just slightly defensive as he plays with his hands a bit.

“Nothing,” Donghyuck says finally, after the silence has nearly become unbearable. The angel picks an invisible speck from his hair and just sighs, before his eyes settle on Mark’s again. “You’re so predictable.”

“Huh?” Mark asks dumbly.

“You were on student council in high school – vice president? Maybe president. You used to be the star of your school’s soccer team, and everyone knew your name. You wake up at 8 a.m. every day, regardless of how late you sleep. You go to the gym about four times a week. You call your mom every Sunday night, and she worries because she knows you have a tendency to overwork yourself. She always bothers you about not having a girlfriend, even though tons of girls have crushes on you. Probably guys too, but you’re straight. You tell her you want to focus more on school, though.” Donghyuck finishes with a small sigh and then fixes Mark with another look. “Sound about right?”

“I’m—I’m not straight,” is all Mark manages to say in response, feeling distinctly like someone just punched him in the stomach with a fist of steel.

“Is that the only thing I got wrong?” Donghyuck asks, barely missing a beat and raising a brow.

“Did they give you a file on me or something?” Mark finally sputters out. 

“No,” Donghyuck snorts. “You’re just predictable.” He pauses, pursing his lips and thinking to himself. “Bi, then?”

Mark nods stupidly in response, speechless. He’s about to ask Donghyuck for the third time, if he was lying about reading thoughts, when his phone suddenly pings several times in rapid succession. He looks down at the screen for a few moments, forgetting temporarily about the terrifying, seemingly omniscient angel sitting in front of him.

jeno

_hyung do u want to get lunch w jisung and me (10:32) _

_at the new sandwich place near ur apt (10:32)_

_i’ve heard its p good (10:33) _

Mark briefly looks up from his phone at Donghyuck, who just holds his gaze curiously. He would probably follow Mark to lunch, right? But no one else would be able to see him.

_sounds good (10:34)_

_meet at 12? (10:34) _

jeno

_kk (10:35)_

“Sorry,” Mark finally apologizes, hastily putting his phone away and redirecting his full attention to Donghyuck. “I’m gonna go get lunch with friends later. One of them, uh, Jeno, texted me about it.” Donghyuck’s brows pinch together suddenly, looking suddenly very alarmed.

“Uh,” Donghyuck says, a noise of utter confusion.

“What?” Mark asks, puzzled over the way Donghyuck suddenly straightens up and clenches his fingers together.

“Is it—” Donghyuck starts, uncharacteristically stumbling over his breath. Mark stares at him in confusion; he hasn’t seen the angel this anxious this before. “You—is it—Lee Jeno?”

“Yeah?” Mark answers tentatively. His head is trying to piece something together, but he can’t quite figure out what it is. “What, do you know all my friends too?”

“Was he ever, um, is he dating someone called Renjun?” Donghyuck asks, voice barely a whisper. Mark’s jaw goes slack.

“Yeah,” Mark repeats slowly, eyes darting between Donghyuck’s fingers drumming nervously on the counter and his face. “He and Renjun have been dating for,” he stops, thinking, “like a year and a half now? I think?” 

“_Fuck_,” Donghyuck swears suddenly, voice echoing loud and harsh in the kitchen. Mark jumps, a little nervous at the panic and frustration he detects in the others voice.

“Okay,” he tries again. “So do you really have a file on me or something, because—”

“Renjun was my best friend,” Donghyuck says tiredly, voice quiet, and Mark immediately shuts up. “Fuck,” the angel repeats again, dropping his head into his hands. “They messed up. I’m not supposed to—you shouldn’t even have been—god, what the _fuck_?” He sounds so distressed Mark feels his heart ache, ever so slightly, but he resists the urge to pull the other in for a hug.

“Are you okay?” He asks timidly instead. It’s silent for a few, strained moments, before Donghyuck raises his head and pins Mark in place with a serious stare.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he orders. And then, without waiting for Mark to respond, he _disappears_.

“What the—” Mark cuts himself off, realizing he’s talking to himself. He stares at the crumpled tissue on the table, the only indication that Donghyuck had been there. With a small sigh, he finishes the last bite of his soggy cereal before quickly standing up and shuffling to the sink to wash the dishes. He eyes the clock on his wall warily, carefully scrubbing at his bowl as he watches time slowly tick by.

He’s just finished putting his bowl and spoon and the drying rack when Donghyuck suddenly reappears in front of him, lips pursed. Mark stumbles in surprise, hand shooting up to clutch at his heart.

“Sorry,” the angel says, sounding distracted. “I had to check some stuff real quick.”

“Okay,” Mark replies slowly, blinking a few times to make sure Donghyuck is still standing in his kitchen. “Uh, is everything alright?”

Donghyuck looks at him, lips pursed unhappily. “Not really,” he answers bluntly. “We aren’t supposed to be assigned to old friends, or people who know your old friends, or really just,” he waves his hands nonsensically in the air. “Anything to do with your old life. It’s dangerous, to—to see people you cared about, and to revive old attachments.” Donghyuck says the last part quietly, staring at his hands, and Mark’s heart hurts.

“Are you still staying, then?” Mark asks hesitantly. His heart hammers in his chest, a part of him trying to quell feelings of disappointment.

“I talked to them,” Donghyuck says, rolling his eyes. “But guardianship is binding. Even if they wanted to give you a different angel, they couldn’t. So,” he bares his teeth, grinning. “You’re stuck with me.”

“Sucks,” Mark shoots back, with no bite.

“Don’t act like you’re not relieved,” Donghyuck replies, sticking his tongue out. His eyes are sparkling again, the somber mood dissipated, and Mark can’t help the small smile that falls on his lips.

There are a million things Mark wants to ask the boy in front of him. _How did you die? How do you know Renjun? Did you ever have any dreams, too?_ Donghyuck looks at him curiously, eyes wide. He’s wearing the same oversized purple hoodie from the night before, the fabric swallowing his narrow frame. The light dances in his hair, making it look almost pink. Mark swallows.

“Yeah,” Mark just says plainly, doing his best to sound nonchalent. “Maybe I am.”

+

“Hey! Hyung, over here!” Jisung greets him cheerfully, Jeno waving next to him. Mark feels a smile make its way to his face, grinning as he goes in to pinch Jisung’s cheeks. Briefly, he turns his head to check to see if Donghyuck is still behind him, but all he gets is a hand pressed to his check firmly pushing his head forward.

_Don’t talk to me_, Donghyuck had warned him seriously. _People will think you’re insane._ _Just pretend I’m invisible. _

“Hey,” Mark replies easily, taking a seat. He half expects Donghyuck to take a seat next to him, but he watches as the angel absentmindedly starts wandering around the sandwich shop instead.

“You okay?” Jeno asks, slight concern lacing his gentle features. “You seem kinda tired.”

“I’m alright,” Mark huffs out, thinking about the chaos that was last night. “Slept a little later than usual.” He clears his throat, not wanting to bring about any questions he can’t answer, before following up with a smart, “How is preparation for the dance show going?”

Jeno and Jisung immediately break out into excited chatter, cutting each other off and tripping over their words, and Mark feels his lips twitch again. Upon hearing all the commotion, Mark watches as Donghyuck walks back to their table quietly, taking a seat and shooting Mark a rather intimidating _don’t say anything_ look.

“It’s a lot of work,” Jeno finally sighs out, “We still have a lot of songs we haven’t finished choreographing yet, so we’re putting in extra hours at the studio. Honestly, it’s kinda hectic, but I know it’ll be good.” He finishes with such a hopeful expression in his eyes, Mark can’t help but smile.

“It’s not fair,” Jisung cuts in, pouting ever so slightly. “You know Renjun-hyung always brings him dinner whenever we stay at the studio?” Donghyuck stiffens at the mention of Renjun, and Mark gets slightly distracted by the way Donghyuck stares at Jeno, as if he can’t believe what he’s seeing.

“He’s spoiling you,” Mark teases gently, taking his eyes off Donghyuck. Jeno’s ears are colored a shade of light pink, and he shoves Jisung lightly with no real malice.

“How’s Chenle?” Jeno shoots back, and Mark watches in disbelief as Jisung starts _spluttering_, taking on an incredibly embarrassed expression.

“Who’s Chenle?” Mark asks curiously. Beside him, he watches as Donghyuck drops his head into his hands with an audible groan. Neither Jeno or Jisung give any sign of hearing the noise, but he makes a mental note to ask him about it later.

“One of Renjun’s friends,” Jeno explains immediately, grinning. “He came with Renjun to the studio once, and turns out he knew Jisung from a project or something. This one—” Jeno jerks a finger towards Jisung, “fell flat on his butt when Chenle said hi to him.”

“I did not!” Jisung protests loudly. Mark bursts out laughing, sharing a wide smile with Jeno.

The rest of the lunch passes by seamlessly, filled with the usual teasing, laughing, and easy conversation that Mark has grown to love. Donghyuck’s presence, however, reminds Mark like a punch to the gut that his days with Jeno and Jisung are limited. The angel stays silent for the rest of the meal, only letting out a small snicker when Mark drops a part of his sandwich on the floor.

At some point, when Jeno is in the bathroom and Jisung and Mark are wrapped up in conversation, Donghyuck carefully presses a finger to Jeno’s phone left face-up on the table. Mark half-listens to Jisung talk about one of his professors as he watches Donghyuck stare at Jeno’s lockscreen: a picture of Jeno and Renjun. Donghyuck catches him looking, and Mark hastily averts his eyes back to Jisung.

Eventually, they part ways because Jisung and Jeno have rehearsals in the afternoon. Mark hugs them each with the promise of sitting in the front row for their dance show, trying not to wonder whether or not he’ll still be here for their performance. It’s a clunky, foreign kind of feeling, one that he can’t swallow but feels throughout his whole body. He hopes he’ll be able to see them dance.

“Don’t overthink it,” Donghyuck finally says softly, as they exit the sandwich shop. Mark glances at him, watching the other as he stares at the buildings and the city streets like he can’t get enough. Donghyuck looks _lost_, as if he doesn’t belong.

“You okay?” Mark chooses to ask instead. An elderly woman walking near him gives him an odd look and Mark tries to pass it off as a cough. Donghyuck’s expression changes in an instant, rolling his eyes as the wistful look melts off his face.

“Worry about yourself,” he shoots back, not quite answering Mark’s question.

It’s peacefully quiet for several moments as they walk side by side on the city street, wind blowing gently in Mark’s hair. Somewhere around the corner, there’s a young boy strumming an acoustic guitar, singing along softly to a Shawn Mendes song. Mark smiles, closing his eyes for a fraction of a second to soak in everything around him, the sun shining warm on his face.

The moment ends when Donghyuck abruptly yanks him, _hard_, with an urgent “Move, oh my god,” and Mark looks around in confusion before an entire chunk of tree branches falls to the sidewalk with a loud noise. Several girls near him let out small screams, huddling together, and people on the street turn to stare in disbelief.

“Holy shit,” one of the high school girls says loudly, grasping onto her friend’s arm for dear life. “We could’ve died.” Mark blinks up at the tall, imposing tree and then down at the tangle of branches now fallen where he would’ve been standing less than a second ago.

“Uh,” he says intelligibly. Donghyuck just sighs and shakes his head. As they hesitantly resume the walk back to his apartment, Mark waits for Donghyuck to reprimand him, or give him some sort of guardian angel lecture, or even an exasperated _told you so_, but he stays silent all the way until they reach the end of the street and Mark carefully presses the crosswalk button.

“I was good friends with Renjun and Chenle,” Donghyuck finally says, looking somewhere in the distance. A small part of Mark wonders if he’s seen these same streets before. The crosswalk turns green with a small beeping noise but Mark stands still, feet glued to the sidewalk. Donghyuck physically tugs him out of his thoughts, leading him across the sidewalk.

“You went to SNU, too, right?” Mark asks quietly, despite knowing the only plausible answer is yes. Donghyuck just nods, eyes trailing over the lanyard around Mark’s neck that proudly reads _Seoul National University_. For a second, Mark considers falling into the typical college student conversation he’s had with so many others: What year? What major? Where are you from? Isn’t our dining hall food _terrible_?

Mark looks at Donghyuck again. Something about the other boy constantly speaking in past tenses doesn’t sit right with him. He gnaws on his lips anxiously.

“Listen,” Donghyuck starts exaggeratedly, after a moment. “I know I’m cute but can you _please_ stop staring—”

“We probably would’ve met,” Mark says in a rush, looking away. “At some point.”

Donghyuck’s mouth snaps shut. “Yeah,” he finally says after a beat of silence, shooting Mark the faintest of smiles. “Probably.”

The rest of the walk back to Mark’s apartment is quiet, but not awkward, and Mark thinks. Thinks about the possibility of him and Donghyuck becoming friends. Thinks about all that Donghyuck had ahead of him at the age of nineteen. Thinks about how to make the most of his own numbered days, despite not knowing how long he has. Thinks about Jeno, and Jaemin, and Jisung, and Yukhei, and Jungwoo, and his mom, and—

“Isn’t this your apartment?” Donghyuck’s voice floats into his thoughts and Mark blinks, looking up. He had been so wrapped up in his head he had hardly noticed that they had already arrived back at his apartment complex. Donghyuck giggles, light and tinkling, and Mark slides his gaze towards the angel. “You were about to walk right by it, you know,” Donghyuck says, still huffing in amusement, and Mark feels the back of his neck heat up ever so slightly.

“I was just,” he gestures at nothing. “Thinking.”

“Cute,” Donghyuck snorts out, grinning at Mark. Instantly, embarrassment shoots through Mark’s veins and he focuses on punching in the passcode to his complex a little too violently.

“I’m twenty-one,” he replies crossly. “Don’t call me cu—”

“Okay, big boy,” Donghyuck just says mockingly, slipping by him as soon as the glass doors slide open. “Whatever you say.” 

He flashes Mark another bright grin before promptly turning on his heel and walking ahead.

+

Mark almost wishes there had been _at least_ one or two hiccups after Donghyuck’s spectacular crash-landing into his life, but the truth is Donghyuck fits so seamlessly into his daily routine it almost scares him. He’s loud, kind of bratty, and always bickering with him—but he’s also oddly perceptive, warm, and kind of, maybe, if Mark is being a hundred percent honest, a little cute.

“Do you not have any other clothes?” Mark asks one night, as he absentmindedly flips through his calculus notes. Donghyuck has practically taken over his bed, playing with one of his old rubix cubes as Mark studies. “You’re always wearing the same thing.”

“I look cute though, right?” Donghyuck says swiftly in response, eyes twinkling as they find Mark’s.

“Whatever you say,” Mark grumbles, looking at Donghyuck’s bright purple hoodie and the way his fingers are hidden in the extra-long sleeves.

Just a _little_, he admits reluctantly.

“We don’t need to change clothes,” Donghyuck explains, eyes glued to the rubix cube still in his hand. “We also don’t _have_ any other clothes, so.” He shrugs.

“You can wear some of mine if you want,” Mark offers, without thinking. At that, Donghyuck sits up on his bed and fixes him with an unimpressed look.

“Why would I want to wear your clothes?” He asks, squinting at Mark.

“Uh,” Mark starts, babbling. “I don’t know. Like—if you ever wanted to—uh, fashion?” He finishes lamely. Almost immediately, Mark kind of wants to die. Donghyuck is still giving him the same unimpressed look and Mark just sighs, feeling stupid. “Okayyy,” he draws out nervously. “Nevermind. Guess you weren’t a fashion major, huh?”

“Nice try,” Donghyuck teases, smiling. Whether he’s talking about the god-awful joke or the frankly very obvious attempt to learn more about his past, Mark isn’t sure he wants to know. “I was a voice major,” Donghyuck just says, flopping back down on the bed so Mark can’t see his face anymore. “Same as Renjun.”

“You sing?” Mark asks, so surprised at Donghyuck opening up that he loses his grip on his pencil. It clatters uselessly on his desk as he stares at the angel, the other focused on the rubix cube again.

“So many questions tonight,” Donghyuck mutters, sitting up again and fully abandoning the rubix cube, choosing instead to stare at Mark with a raised brow. “I wanted to be an idol too, just like you. But alas,” he sighs. “I didn’t pass the first round of auditions, and that was that. If they didn’t want me, I decided it wasn’t worth it to try again.”

“I’m sure it was their loss,” Mark says immediately, trying to follow up with some sort of empathy.

Donghyuck gives him another strange look. “Mark, you _do_ know I’m not technically alive anymore, right?”

“I know,” Mark tacks on hastily. “I just—it must suck.” He finishes awkwardly, opting to stare at his notes instead of looking at Donghyuck.

“It does,” Donghyuck replies absentmindedly. “There’s no denying it sucks, but it’s not _that_ bad.” He seems to be in a talkative mood today, and Mark just lets him go on, weirdly invested in his every word. “It’s not like I can’t sing anymore,” He pauses, tugging at his sleeves. “But there’s still a lot of stuff I miss. I mean—I can’t, like, make music, or play the guitar, or—”

“I have a guitar.” Mark remembers suddenly.

“No way,” Donghyuck whispers in shock, sitting up straighter. His eyes are shining. “You _have_ to get it.”

“I—” Mark glances at his unfinished homework laying in front of him. He’s pretty sure he’s been stuck on one page for the past hour, and honestly, he’s fighting a losing battle. But, his conscience refuses to let go. “Wait, let me finish this first.”

“You know you’re gonna die soon?” Donghyuck says casually, crossing his legs. “Just saying.”

Mark bites the inside of his lip. “Fine,” he sighs, standing up. Donghyuck follows, practically bouncing on his feet as he follows Mark to the storage closet. Mark opens the door, coughing slightly at the dust, before he grabs the familiar instrument and brings it out of the darkness.

“I got it,” Donghyuck pipes up, grabbing the guitar from him immediately and taking off back towards Mark’s room.

“Hey!” Mark calls out down the hall, scrambling to close the closet door and catch up with the angel. “Be careful with that!”

“’Kay!” Donghyuck just yells back. Mark bites back a small laugh as he walks back to his room, watching as Donghyuck excitedly unzips the case and carefully pulls his guitar out.

“Here,” Mark offers, sitting down on his carpeted floor as he holds his hand out. “I’ll tune it. It’s faster if I do it.” Donghyuck pouts a little, but hands the guitar over nevertheless, keeping his gaze steady as Mark quickly pulls up a tuning app on his phone and starts plucking at the strings. He turns the tuning knobs carefully, oddly nervous as Donghyuck watches him closely.

“Gimme,” Donghyuck demands obnoxiously when Mark finishes tuning the final string. Mark rolls his eyes slightly before handing him his guitar, smiling as Donghyuck’s eyes practically light up. The younger holds the guitar with a practiced grace, eyeing his fingers in concentration as he starts to strum. But as soon as he starts, Mark realizes something is terribly wrong when Donghyuck’s chords come out off-kilter and strange sounding. The excitement instantly drains from the angel’s face, his expression shutting down, as he stares at the guitar blankly.

“Donghyuck,” Mark tries, throat stricken.

“I can’t play,” Donghyuck whispers, sounding absolutely defeated. Mark can almost feel his own heart shattering to pieces. Hesitantly, he places a hand on the other’s thigh. Donghyuck just sighs, hanging his head as he carefully removes the guitar from his lap and places it on the floor. “It must be the physical sensation thing,” he says, wringing his hands. “I can’t feel—just—the pressure is off.” He looks at the guitar with so much sadness in his eyes that Mark’s brain immediately goes into overdrive, frantically hunting for something, anything to save the mood.

“I—I can play,” he trips over his words, anxious. “I can play and you can sing? If you want?” Donghyuck looks at him, surprised, before his eyes soften and a grateful smile falls on his lips.

“Okay,” Donghyuck agrees quietly. “I’d like that.” He smiles again at Mark, shy, and Mark swallows, brain feeling like mush.

“Okay,” Mark echoes dumbly. “But, I, um, I mostly only know American songs.”

“That’s fine, I know a lot of American songs.” Donghyuck insists, a sparkle back in his eyes. He gives Mark a challenging look. “Don’t underestimate me.”

“Alright, alright,” Mark says, chuckling as he grabs his guitar and props it up in his lap. He racks his mind quickly, thinking about the songs he still remembers how to play, before he settles on one of his old favorites. “Okay,” he inhales. “Do you know Billionaire? By Bruno Mars and—”

“I know it,” Donghyuck interrupts him excitedly, slapping Mark on the knee. “C’mon, play it.”

“You’re so impatient,” Mark mumbles, but he complies nevertheless, smiling.

When Donghyuck sings the first line, Mark’s fingers nearly fumble out of pure shock. He’s lucky that his thirteen-year-old self had been so obsessed with the song that muscle memory saves him, but nothing had prepared him for the sound of Donghyuck’s voice, rich and sweet and _angelic_, echoing around his small room on a Wednesday night and making his heart do some sort of funny dance in his chest. His talent is undeniable, technique shining through as he sings.

He gains his composure back, though, when he recognizes the start of one of the rap parts and, without warning, joins Donghyuck. The other blinks in blatant surprise, but breaks out into a wide smile shortly after, eyes so focused on him that Mark turns his eyes back to his fingers mid-rap to avoid pushing his poor heartbeat any further.

They go through the whole song together, Donghyuck singing gently and Mark rapping enthusiastically, and Mark feels a bit like he’s thirteen again, dreaming stupidly of becoming rich and hoping to sing his dreams into existence. It’s a warm, pleasant feeling that spreads all throughout his chest and it’s only after Mark hits the final chord that silence settles back on the two of them and Mark, again, scrambles for something to say.

“Um,” Mark starts slowly, hands suddenly sweaty. He places the guitar back on the floor, discreetly trying to wipe his palms on his sweats. Donghyuck stares at him curiously. “You… voice.”

“I… voice,” Donghyuck parrots back, clearly trying to stop himself from laughing. His eyes shine with a new, reinvigorated light, and Mark can’t help but stare. “Yes, I have a voice.”

“Shut up,” Mark grumbles, embarrassed. “I meant you—you have a nice voice.” And just like that, now it’s Donghyuck’s turn to be flustered, as the boy promptly shuts up and bites down on his lips. Mark marvels a little, never having seen Donghyuck blush before. 

“Oh,” Donghyuck says softly, and he gives Mark a small, genuine smile. “Thank you. I haven’t heard that in a while.” He looks down at the floor before glancing at Mark again, lips quirking. “You surprised me. You’re pretty good at rapping.”

“Thanks,” Mark replies sheepishly, hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. “I used to practice a lot, when I was younger.”

“Oh my god,” Donghyuck whispers, sounding delighted. “Do you have videos?”

“We’re not watching them,” Mark rebuffs immediately, cheeks warm. But Donghyuck pesters him to no end, batting away his flimsy excuses, and _really_, Mark thinks weakly to himself, watching as Donghyuck pouts and whines and pulls some truly cringe-inducing aegyo, he hardly stood a chance.

Mark spends the rest of the evening huddled on his bedroom floor with Donghyuck resting his head on his shoulder, the two of them watching low quality home videos of Mark at eight years old trying to do a cover of an Eminem song. Donghyuck nearly shrieks with laughter at every video, and Mark finds himself more than a little distracted at the way the angel laughs and the way his eyelashes fan prettily on his face. 

“We should do this again,” Donghyuck says afterwards with a smile.

“What?” Mark interjects sleepily. “Make fun of me as a kid?” Donghyuck swats at his arm and Mark yelps a little, scooting away.

“Sing together, idiot,” Donghyuck explains patiently. “But that too,” he adds on with a smirk.

“Mm,” Mark mumbles, as Donhyuck’s words settle into his tired brain. “We should. You have a nice voice.”

“I know,” Donghyuck laughs quietly. “You told me already.”

“Oh,” Mark replies, embarrassed. He plays absentmindedly with his phone in his lap. Donghyuck just shakes his head, biting back a smile.

“Go to sleep,” he tells Mark, and Mark just nods sleepily as he drags himself up off his bedroom floor and towards the bathroom. “Sleep tight,” Donghyuck calls to him right before he can close the door behind him. 

“Mmkay, ‘night,” Mark answers with a smile. Donghyuck beams at him brightly, before he promptly vanishes into thin air. Mark blinks a few times, still unused to the sight, but he just sighs and enters his bathroom. It’s too quiet now, and he tries not to think about why.

After taking a warm shower and thoroughly brushing his teeth, Mark collapses onto his bed and lets out a long sigh of contentment. He turns off the lights and lays in bed, staring at the ceiling as he thinks about Donghyuck’s singing, the boy’s soothing voice unable to leave his mind. Donghyuck has somehow managed to leave his imprints on every corner of his mind, his soft humming and sneaky smiles refusing to budge from where they’re rooted in his brain. Lately, it seems pointless to even try and make space in his head for anything else.

_Maybe_, Mark allows himself to think. _Just maybe_, he’s a little obsessed.

+

“I have no clue what the _fuck_ he’s talking about,” Jaemin whispers honestly in his ear, and it takes all Mark has to not break out into giggles in the middle of lecture.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he mutters back quietly, and he hears Jaemin muffle a laugh. Someone behind them clears their throat, and the two of them turn hastily back towards the front, trying not to smile. The professor’s monotonous voice floats far over Mark’s head and he lets out a small sigh, resting his chin in his hands. His eyes sweep the room absentmindedly, searching for a head of brown hair out of habit even though Donghyuck had disappeared a while ago, like he usually did whenever Mark was in class.

His phone lights up suddenly, pulling his eyes away from the expanse of the lecture hall, and he watches in amusement as several notifications fill up his screen.

lucas

_help have u had ur calc lecture yet (3:45)_

_pls say yes (3:45) _

_I DIDN’T UNDERSTAND ANYTHING (3:45)_

_if u didn’t get it either i’m screwed (3:46)_

Mark bites down another smile, opting instead to show his phone to Jaemin. The other boy practically starts wheezing. _We’re all screwed_, he mouths at Mark, and the two just collapse into silent, shaky laughter, trying their absolute best to remain respectful.

“I thought you were supposed to be a star student?” Donghyuck asks loudly, as he suddenly appears again, sitting backwards in the seat in front of Mark with a smile on his lips. Mark jolts in surprise, trying hastily to cover it up as a stretch when Jaemin gives him a concerned glance. Lips pursed, he shoots Donghyuck an irritated look, to which the other just responds with double peace signs.

The rest of the lecture passes by and to Mark’s dismay, he still _really_ doesn’t understand most of the words that spill from his professor’s mouth, and all he can do is stare helplessly at the mostly blank page of notes in front of him. Jaemin doodles ridiculous caricatures of their friends on his own page, showing him occasionally, and Mark gets worse and worse at stifling his giggles as the class drags on.

Afterwards, as a bunch of other tired, confused students start filing out the classroom, Jaemin pauses in the middle of stuffing his pencil case back into his backpack to let out a long sigh. “We should probably try to learn this at some point,” he says, smiling faintly at Mark.

“Probably,” Mark echoes with a sheepish grin. “We can invite Yukhei too.” Jaemin snorts, nodding along emphatically as he zips his backpack shut. The younger glances at his watch briefly before looking up, excitement taking over his features.

“Wanna get boba?” He asks.

“Sure,” Mark replies easily, smiling.

“Nice,” Jaemin says, pumping his fists. “I have a class after, though, so I can’t stay long.” Mark waves him off, assuring him it’ll be fine, and the two of them make their way off campus towards a popular nearby bubble tea shop. Donghyuck follows them quietly, not saying anything else. When Mark chances a look towards him, he’s looking up at the university buildings, eyes soft and thoughtful.

Jaemin goes first, standing to the side to wait as Mark orders. The cashier repeats Mark’s order back to him, a shy smile on her face as she tucks her long blonde hair behind her ear. Mark just nods in confirmation, shooting her a smile, before paying and tossing his receipt in the trash. He almost turns to ask Donghyuck what he wants, the other boy standing behind him, but he catches himself in time.

“She has a crush on you,” Donghyuck tells him, brow raised as he nods towards the cashier.

“I think the cashier likes you,” Jaemin whispers at the same time, nudging him gently. Donghyuck lets out a loud laugh of surprise, throwing his head back. Mark wonders briefly how Jaemin and Donghyuck would be like together as friends, then abruptly feels a headache coming on at the thought.

_I like him_, Donghyuck mouths with a grin, pointing at Jaemin. Mark just pretends to ignore him.

“Does she?” He asks hesitantly, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. He catches the cashier’s eye again and she gives him another bright smile. “I didn’t notice.” 

“Oblivious as usual, hyung,” Jaemin sighs. Mark shoves him gently.

“I’m not interested,” he mumbles, repeating the same phrase he’s been spitting out since freshman year like a broken record. “So…”

Jaemin hums thoughtfully, giving him a searching look. “Did you meet someone?” He pauses. “You seem happier than usual lately.”

“Do I?” Mark says in surprise, suddenly nervous. Unconsciously, he raises his eyes to look at Donghyuck, a _terrible_ decision because the other is already blatantly staring at him, a faint smirk on the corner of his lips. Mark tears his eyes away immediately, babbling. “I didn’t meet anyone, uh, I think it’s just the—the weather. It’s been sunny a lot lately, hasn’t it?”

Donghyuck cracks up laughing, loud and obnoxious in the small shop, and Mark almost wishes someone else could hear him so they could tell the angel to shut up. Jaemin fixes him with a highly skeptical face, but for once, miraculously decides to leave his bumbling, lying fool of a hyung alone because he just sighs and shrugs his shoulders.

“Alright,” Jaemin replies warily, one eyebrow still raised. “Whatever you say.” Mark just presses his lips together, willing the heat on the back of his neck to go away. His and Jaemin’s drinks are called, and he jumps at the opportunity to walk away from Jaemin’s knowing eyes. Unfortunately, he’s not able to escape all the teasing.

“You’re so cute,” Donghyuck coos, laughing as he follows Mark up to the counter, pinching at his ear. Mark moves his hand up to scratch his ear with more force than necessary, successfully knocking Donghyuck’s fingers off. He resists the burning urge to snap at Donghyuck, settling instead for just grabbing the drinks and walking back quickly to where Jaemin is sitting.

He and Jaemin only take a few sips before Jaemin winces, checking the time and apologizing as he gets up and rushes to his next class. Mark just bids him goodbye with a small wave and a promise of figuring out their calc lecture at some point before the other boy is off, all cheeky smiles and wide grins. With a sigh, Mark stands up, stretching a little.

“C’mon,” he says quietly to Donghyuck, trying to keep his voice low to avoid stares. “Let’s go back.”

“What,” Donghyuck shoots back immediately, and Mark is almost jealous of how carefree he can be about his volume. “Don’t want to take advantage of the _sunny weather_?” `

“I’m leaving,” Mark mutters resolutely, turning on his heel and making a beeline for the door. Behind him, he hears Donghyuck practically cackle in amusement. The angel catches up to him less than a few seconds later, and they slip outside the store together into the bright bustle of college students along the sidewalk. 

“I didn’t know I was your new special someone,” Donghyuck says slyly, as he falls into step next to Mark.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Mark huffs out, refusing to look at the boy next to him.

“I’m just saying,” Donghyuck starts dramatically, and Mark can almost _feel_ his eye twitching. “You—” And then he stops suddenly, a look of pure panic taking over his face before he grabs onto Mark’s arm and pulls him backwards forcefully. Mark stumbles, just barely keeping his balance as a careless car screeches by, definitely over the speed limit. It speeds away noisily, unaware of Mark’s hammering heart.

“Are you okay?!” Comes a concerned call from across the street. Mark gives a shaky thumbs up to the kind middle-aged woman asking. Behind him, he feels Donghyuck sigh into his ear. He squirms a little. 

“I swear to god,” Donghyuck mutters under his breath. “Look where you’re going before you cross the damn street.” One hand still on Mark, he reaches his other arm out to steady himself against a lamppost. Immediately, he retracts his hand with a hiss, like he’s been burned. Donghyuck stares at his hand in shock, as if he’s seeing it for the first time.

“What?” Mark asks, confused.

“The lamppost is hot.”

“Yeah? So what?” A few strangers give Mark a strange look, probably confused at why it looks like he’s talking to a lamppost, but Mark ignores them in favor of focusing on the awe that has made its way onto Donghyuck’s face.

“I can’t feel heat,” Donghyuck says, staring in utter confusion: first at the lamppost, then at Mark. “I usually don’t feel anything.” Mark blinks a few times, before understanding suddenly hits him.

“Maybe it’s because you’re touching me?” He suggests tentatively, raising his arm and subsequently raising Donghyuck’s hand latched onto it. Donghyuck’s eyes lock on where they’re touching, before he looks back at Mark like an excited puppy.

“Hand,” he demands, taking his arm off and offering Mark his palm.

“What am I, a dog?” Mark laughs. Donghyuck just wiggles his hand impatiently and Mark relents, placing his hand on top of the other’s. Immediately, Donghyuck presses his other open palm to Mark’s drink, mouth hanging open stupidly. Mark can’t help but snicker a little at his expression.

“It’s cold,” Donghyuck marvels, eyes alive. He tugs at Mark’s hand, pulling him away from the streets as he starts to press his hand against every possible surface he can find: from the glass windows of a nearby coffee place to the messy bark of the numerous trees lining the sidewalk. Donghyuck touches everything with childish wonder, and Mark has to bite back a smile more than once because it’s _endearing_.

“Excited, aren’t we?” Mark jibes sarcastically. Donghyuck just grins. 

“I guess I was wrong,” he says, shrugging nonchalantly.

Mark blinks. “About what?”

“Maybe _you’re_ my new special someone, Mark Lee.” Donghyuck smiles up at him, so earnest and bright that Mark’s ears burn with embarrassment.

He looks away, biting his lips.

Donghyuck becomes infinitely touchier after that, constantly grabbing at Mark’s hands and randomly tugging on his ear. This becomes a problem very quickly for several reasons. One, Mark has never been a very touchy person and two, it’s _Donghyuck_. Donghyuck with his soft hands and tousled hair and nice voice.

(Why does it always have to be my hand?” Mark practically whines one day. “Just put your hand on my back or something, doesn’t that work?”

“What,” Donghyuck retorts instantly. “Don’t want to hold my hand?”

Mark swallows. “I just mean, like, isn’t it easier for you? You wouldn’t have to reach for my hand every time.”

Donghyuck gives him another one of his long, thoughtful stares, eyes seemingly searching into his soul, before breaking out in one of the biggest grins Mark has ever seen. “You’re an awful liar,” is all he says, before he grabs Mark’s hand and tugs him towards a pet store, insisting he wants to feel the bunnies.)

+

_where are u? (6:55)_

_i’m in the front row come find me when u get here (6:55)_

Mark frowns down at his phone, waiting impatiently for Jaemin to respond. He feels just the slightest bit awkward, sitting in the front row of the university dance show alone. His phone dings and he snaps his head back down.

jaemin

_I’M RUNNING LATE SORRY (6:57)_

_SAVE ME A SPOT I’LL BE THERE I PROMISE (6:57)_

Mark just sighs, but he dutifully puts his backpack on the seat to his left, reserving it for Jaemin.

“What’s wrong?” Donghyuck asks curiously, taking the opportunity to sit down in in the seat next to Mark’s backpack.

“He’s just late,” Mark says idly, locking and unlocking his phone.

“Mark-hyung!” Comes an excited voice. “Mind if we sit here?” Mark looks up in confusion, before locking eyes with a smiling Huang Renjun and another, smaller blonde boy in tow behind him.

“Oh,” Mark stammers, surprised. “Hi Renjun. Of course,” He turns his head hesitantly to look at the angel on the other side of him.

Donghyuck’s eyes are as wide as saucers, mouth hanging open in barely contained shock and Mark wonders, anxiously, if this is a good idea. The other recovers quickly, though, just shooing him away and shaking his head. _I’m fine_, he mouths. Mark doesn’t really believe him.

“This is Chenle, by the way,” Renjun introduces, pointing to the boy next to him. Chenle smiles cheerfully, his eyes disappearing adorably, and Mark can’t help but smile back, making a mental note to ask Jisung about his love life later.

“It’s my first time seeing the dance show,” Chenle says excitedly.

“You’re only watching for Jisung,” Renjun teases, and he and Mark laugh at the way Chenle’s mouth snaps shut in embarrassment. Mark’s secretly thankful; he’s only met Renjun a couple of times, but the younger’s ability to strike up a conversation and keep the mood light prevents all possible moments of awkwardness.

“Jaemin’s coming with the flowers,” Mark mentions, remembering. Renjun nods in understanding. “He’s running a little late, though.”

“I hope he comes with a lot,” Renjun says, laughing in embarrassment. “I kind of forgot to get Jeno flowers.”

“Can you believe him?” Chenle whispers to Mark loudly. “He forgot flowers for his own boyfriend.”

“Hey,” Renjun shoots back sharply, raising a brow. “At least I _have_ a boyfriend.” Immediately, the two break out into harmless bickering, and Mark grins a little at their friendship. To his left, he hears the tinkling sound of Donghyuck laughing, and his heart warms ever so slightly. As Renjun shifts slightly in his seat, clutching his bag, Mark catches sight of a bright yellow keychain in the shape of a sun.

“Oh, I like your keychain,” he says, pointing to it with a smile. “It’s cute.” Renjun pauses, exchanging a knowing smile with Chenle before he grins up at Mark.

“Thanks,” he replies emphatically, eyes curved into crescents. “My best friend gave it to me, actually,” he continues to explain, fiddling with the little sun. “He said it would help me, and I quote, ‘_never forget my brilliance and beauty_.’” Renjun rolls his eyes, but Mark can easily spy the affection and amusement behind it.

He hears Donghyuck suck in a deep breath, and instantly, the dots are connected.

“You guys sound like great friends,” Mark responds honestly, grinning. At that, Renjun smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“We were,” he says honestly. A beat of silence, and then, “He passed away in a car accident around a year ago, though.” He exhales quietly. “It sucks, I feel like there was so much I never got to tell him.” And Mark is expecting it, but it still manages to make his heart clench, and then, looking at Renjun as he plays quietly with the keychain, he feels his heart break cleanly in half. 

“I’m sorry,” Mark lets out with all the emotion he can muster. He feels oddly bold, out of his element, as he pushes forward. “I’m sure he’s thinking of you, even now.”

“Thank you,” Renjun sighs, wiping slightly at his eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring the mood down like that,” He gives a small, sheepish laugh. “This happens every time someone points out my keychain.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mark insists, hand hesitantly coming up to rest on Renjun’s shoulder. At the same moment, there’s a small noise next to him as some other members of the audience file into the front row, claiming their spots. Someone likely takes the seat that Donghyuck had been sitting in, because suddenly the angel moves into Mark’s line of vision again and catches his eye.

He’s _crying_. Silent tears are running slowly down Donghyuck’s face and Mark jolts like he’s been shocked, biting down hard on his lips to resist the urge to ask if he’s okay.

Donghyuck shakes his head urgently, wiping at his face and gesturing pointedly for Mark to ignore him. Guilt gnaws relentlessly at Mark as Donghyuck glares at him in warning, but he’s forced to give up when the angel just decides to sit on the floor of the theater, resting his back against Mark’s legs so he can’t see him.

“Actually, hyung,” Chenle cuts in, dragging Mark’s attention back to the current situation. He has a wide grin and a sparkle in his eyes as he taps Renjun’s arm impatiently. “Didn’t you say once that you wanted to set Donghyuck up with Mark?” Mark blinks rapidly in surprise, lips parting.

“Oh, god,” Renjun groans, laughing as he covers his face. “I totally forgot.”

“Set me up?” Mark asks, amused. Below him, he feels Donghyuck’s shoulders shake with silent laughter against his shins.

“He would have _killed_ us,” Chenle says solemnly, and Renjun just giggles, covering his mouth with his hand.

“It was kind of stupid,” Renjun admits to Mark, smiling. “But after the first couple of times I met you, I kind of thought you and Hyuck—oh, his name was Donghyuck by the way—I just had this feeling that you two would get along well?”

“Literally no one else thought that but you,” Chenle points out. Renjun elbows him, the younger letting out a small shriek, and he goes on explaining. Mark can almost perfectly visualize Renjun and Donghyuck being friends, quick wit and devilish grins; it pulls at his heart a little.

“Anyways,” he rolls his eyes. “I bothered Jeno a little, and he basically let on that you were never really interested in dating. And on the other hand,” he pauses, a small smile making its way onto his face. “Hyuck hated being set up with people. Like, _hated_ it.” He sighs mournfully, but it’s light-hearted. “And thus, you two never got to meet. What a shame.”

“What a shame indeed.” Mark echoes, barely biting back a smile. Donghyuck pinches his leg from where he’s sitting, and this whole situation is so fucking _surreal_, he thinks, laughter bubbling up in his chest.

“Ladies and gentleman,” comes a loud, booming voice from the stage. The three of them turn to look. Instantly, the chatter in the audience dies out, turning to a low buzz. A girl wearing a sleek black dress with a cheery smile stands in the center of the stage, holding a microphone. “Thank you for coming out to this year’s annual dance show, put on by some of the brightest performers at SNU.” There are several loud cheers from the audience, friends screeching out various names of the dancers.

“I’m here, I’m here!” Comes a frantic whisper. Jaemin slides into their row, holding a rather ridiculous number of bouquets, and Mark quickly takes his bag off his saved seat. Quick hellos are exchanged as Renjun introduces Chenle again, and the three of them rush to help Jaemin carry some flowers.

“We have a lot prepared for you tonight,” The girl continues speaking, smooth voice echoing around the theater. Gradually, the lights start to dim and Mark hastily turns his phone’s ringer off, watching Renjun do the same. “So get ready, sit back, and enjoy the show.”

She finishes with a wink, before quickly walking off stage. Darkness engulfs the audience as the curtain slowly draws open, and Mark settles comfortably into his seat, excited.

The show is—simply put—nothing short of spectacular. Mark spends most of it cheering loudly with Renjun, Jaemin, and Chenle, the four of them yelling and clapping until their throats are sore and their palms are stinging. Jeno and Jisung shine on stage, the bright lights emphasizing their sharp movements and fierce expressions. Mark feels a wave of pride passing over him as he watches them dance, appreciative of all the time they must have spent practicing.

After the standing ovation that breaks out at the end, along with a highly requested encore stage, the four of them rush along with the swarm of other students, to give the flowers and offer congratulations. It’s hectic, everyone trying to find their friends with bouquets and gifts, but thankfully they find Jeno and Jisung after a few arduous moments.

“You have competition,” Renjun whispers to Chenle, as they eye the swarm of girls around Jisung. Jaemin giggles obnoxiously.

They eventually manage to push the bouquets into Jeno and Jisung’s arms, showering the both of them with countless compliments and smiles, before the two are inevitably swept backstage with the rest of the dance team to take pictures and celebrate. Mark bids Renjun and Chenle farewell, filled with smiles and promises to try and hang out more often. He even walks Jaemin back to his dorm, despite the other’s protests, and he leaves after promising Jaemin to text when he reaches his apartment safely.

And then finally, it’s just him and Donghyuck taking the familiar path from the campus back to his apartment. The angel has been quiet since the dance show ended, silently following Mark around. No snide remarks, no pinches to the cheek, no nothing. Mark sneaks a glance at Donghyuck, the street lights illuminating his still slightly puffy eyes. It doesn’t make him any less attractive.

“Good show,” Mark says stupidly, then immediately wants to slap himself. “Right?”

Donghyuck nods, Mark barely catching it in the darkness. “It was amazing,” the angel murmurs quietly. “You have really good friends.”

“Yeah,” Mark just breathes out, smiling slightly. Silence settles back on the two of them as they make their way into Mark’s apartment complex and enter the elevator. Mark keeps looking hesitantly at Donghyuck, words he wants to say hovering at the tip of his tongue, but each time he decides against it. It’s a strange feeling, having too much he wants to ask while also having nothing to say at the same time.

“You look constipated,” Donghyuck finally snorts, after they enter Mark’s apartment. A hint of his usual self is back, as he rolls his eyes. “I’m fine, really. Don’t worry about me.”

“Are you sure?” Mark asks immediately, voice a bit too loud in the small space.

“Yeah,” Donghyuck sighs. “I just got a little—” he waves one hand, thinking. “Nostalgic. I’m okay now.” Mark just stares at him for a long while, trying to piece together what the best course of action should be next. And then, because his mouth _refuses_ to cooperate with his brain—

“Hug?” He offers dumbly, holding his arms out. For several long moments, Donghyuck looks at him like he’s grown another head. And then, right as Mark is about to drop his arms in embarrassment and make some excuse about suddenly needing to go to bed, Donghyuck sighs and steps into his arms, his own wrapping around Mark’s back.

“You’re so weird,” Donghyuck mutters, breath hot against Mark’s ear.

“If you don’t want—”

“Oh, shut up,” Donghyuck interrupts Mark’s defensive start, hand snaking up to pinch the back of his neck. “I never said I didn’t want to.” And _shut up_ Mark does, mouth snapping shut as he revels silently in Donghyuck’s open admission.

They stay like that for what feels like hours, Mark pulling Donghyuck in close and the other humming softly in content. If Donghyuck can hear Mark’s heart hammering obnoxiously in his chest, Mark is grateful he doesn’t say anything about it. It’s just the two of them—Donghyuck’s cheek pressed against his neck, Mark’s hand quietly playing with the other’s hair. 

Someone who isn’t even human anymore shouldn’t feel like this, Mark thinks, lips pressed together. Shouldn’t feel warm and soft and like he belongs in Mark’s arms, as if there had always been a Donghyuck-shaped hole in Mark’s life for the past twenty-one years. 

“Thanks,” Donghyuck says quietly, when they finally pull apart. Mark traces his face under the dim light of his apartment, eyes lingering on Donghyuck’s grateful eyes, the curve of his nose, the way his lips are pulled into a small smile. He swallows, dragging his eyes back to meet the other’s gaze.

“Anytime,” he replies, raw and honest.

+

“Oh,” Jungwoo says thoughtfully, looking down. “You have to use logarithmic differentiation here.”

“Uh,” Mark says, looking blankly at the problem on his paper. From beside him, Donghyuck giggles.

“Ay! Mark!” A deep, booming voice reaches their ear from the entrance of the café. Mark and Jungwoo look up simultaneously, smiling when they lock eyes.

“There’s Yukhei,” Jungwoo sighs, laughing slightly. Mark grins at the sight of the taller boy, standing up and pulling the other in for a quick hug and handshake. Yukhei smiles wide and bright at the two of them, before plopping down in the seat next to Jungwoo loudly.

“Okay,” he announces, clapping his hands together noisily. “How do I math?” With a slight roll of the eyes, Jungwoo launches into the brief overview he had given Mark a few minutes earlier, going over the important topics they needed to focus on and the ways he himself had studied when he had taken the class last year. Mark silently thanks the universe for Jungwoo.

“Oh my god,” Donghyuck suddenly huffs out in laughter. Mark turns his face discreetly toward him, raising a silent eyebrow in question. The other is looking at Yukhei, pressing his lips together in amusement. “Your friend over there tried to hit on me once, at a party. It was fucking _hilarious_.” Mark almost bursts out laughing. He hates that he can imagine the situation so clearly in his head, and he furiously bites back a grin, trying to school his expression back into a straight face.

“Hello? Earth to Mark,” Yukhei waves his hand in front of Mark’s face and Mark jumps, sheepish.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologizes hastily. “I’m listening.” Jungwoo shakes his head, letting out a noise of exasperation. Mark and Yukhei look at each other, giggling.

They _do_ manage to settle down, eventually, working together on jumbles of variables and derivatives as Jungwoo patiently explains different concepts to them. And Mark is, honestly, doing his best to focus and force his way through the problems, but Donghyuck is _distracting_.

He tugs at Mark’s ears, pinches his cheek, and practically rests his entire weight against Mark’s body. Donghyuck’s hands absentmindedly flit across the expanse of Mark’s neck and shoulders, picking at nonexistent specks of dust and pieces of lint. Mark tries not to squirm, but he can’t exactly move away without drawing attention to himself. He catches the mischievous grin on Donghyuck’s face at some point and he’s positive the other boy is probably having the time of his life.

“Yah,” Mark finally lets out loudly at some point, swatting at Donghyuck’s fingers. Instantly, Jungwoo and Yukhei look up at him with matching perplexed expressions. “Sorry,” he tacks on hastily, waving his hands in a jumble. “There was a fly.”

“_There was a fly_,” Donghyuck mocks aloud. Mark purposefully continues to wave his hands, edging them closer to Donghyuck’s face and eliciting a squeak from the other.

Nevertheless, Donghyuck relents. The angel retracts his hands from Mark’s bubble, and Mark doesn’t mourn the loss of warmth—he _doesn’t_, settling instead for fiddling with his own sleeves and hair. And now he’s just distracting again, for a whole different reason. Mark watches, lips pursed, as Donghyuck flaps the long sleeves of his hoodie around and blows air adorably at his own bangs.

“Mark?” Jungwoo asks, sounding concerned. Donghyuck catches his gaze, smirking.

“I give up,” Mark declares suddenly in defeat, choosing to smash his face as flat as he can against the table. Donghyuck laughs loudly at that, clapping gleefully to himself.

“Aw,” Yukhei protests. “C’mon, we have to pass this midterm somehow, right?” He reaches across the table to give Mark an encouraging slap on the shoulder, but Mark just sighs. His face is still warm.

“Okay, okay,” he mutters, dragging himself up and off the table, resolutely avoiding Donghyuck’s eyes. “Let’s do math.”

He parts ways with Jungwoo and Yukhei two mind-numbing hours later, head splitting as numbers swim in front of his vision. Ironically, Donghyuck hums an old f(x) song quietly to himself as he waits for Mark to finish stuffing his calculator into his bag.

“I’m so glad I never had to take any math classes,” Donghyuck sighs. “Thank _god_.”

“This would’ve been a lot easier,” Mark huffs. “If you could keep your hands to yourself, you know.” They walk out of the small café together, stepping onto one of the relatively empty streets of Seoul, warm and bright in the afternoon.

“Whatever do you mean?” Donghyuck asks with an exaggerated ignorance. He bats his eyes innocently, the picture of oblivious. Mark does a quick double check to see if anyone is watching, before shoving Donghyuck roughly. The other just stumbles and giggles, eyes crinkling.

“Shut up,” Mark mumbles.

“Hand,” Donghyuck demands, straightening up and making grabby motions with his hand. Mark just looks at him, exasperated.

“What do you want to touch now?” He clasps Donghyuck’s hand in his anyways.

“Nothing,” Donghyuck grins up at him. He swings their arms a little. “Just don’t want you to die, or anything.” Mark’s mouth clamps shut, embarrassment settling into him as Donghyuck continues to hold his hand. It’s comfortable—everything about Donghyuck is, really. All of a sudden, he worries unnecessarily. _Are my palms sweaty?_

“I can’t believe Yukhei tried to hit on you,” Mark says instead, opting to change the subject. He snickers a little, doing his best to ease his heartrate.

“It was a riot,” Donghyuck replies, rolling his eyes. “You know what line he tried to use?” He takes on a serious expression, voice dropping several octaves in a strangely accurate impression of Yukhei. “_’Did it hurt when you fell? From uh—from heaven?’_”

“No way,” Mark wheezes. He’s almost tempted to ask Yukhei about it, later. “What did you say back?” He asks, prodding Donghyuck.

“I was gonna say something kinda mean,” Donghyuck grins evilly. “About his lack of brain cells, but I kinda just waved him off. I mean, he seems nice but,” he wrinkles his nose. “He was too drunk that time.” A pause. “And he wasn’t really my type anyways,” he adds on thoughtfully, lips pursed.

“Oh,” Mark replies. Then, without thinking, “What was—what’s your type, then?” He regrets the question as soon as it leaves his tongue, mouth falling shut and neck burning in shame. Donghyuck lets go of his hand at that, eyes positively brimming in amusement as he looks up at Mark’s face. The angel starts skipping out of nowhere, bouncing several steps in front of Mark before he turns around to face him again.

“Wouldn’t you like to know!” He hollers down the street, lips stretched into a wide grin. Mark splutters, before Donghyuck stops facing him again and opts to continue bounding down the path back to his apartment ahead of him.

+

Despite Donghyuck’s complaints about all the time he spends studying and the constant, jabbing reminders that _you’re gonna die soon, you know that, right_, Mark falls into his usual hermit routine of studying the next couple of days in preparation for midterms. He spends most of his time holed up at his desk or at the library, neck-deep in notes, practice-quizzes, and recorded lectures. Maybe Donghyuck’s right, but he can’t bring himself to just give up—it feels like committing a crime.

Luckily, Donghyuck’s mindful enough to stay mostly quiet while he studies. The other simply steals his earbuds, flipping idly through Mark’s playlists and adding songs as he sees fit. Sometimes he disappears while Mark is still studying, off doing other angel things, Mark supposes. Other times, he just rests his head on his arms and watches Mark silently. 

Finally, on the morning of his dreaded calc midterm, Mark paces nervously around his kitchen, scrambling to remember all the formulas.

“Relax,” Donghyuck insists, handing him his calculator. “You’ve literally studied your ass off. You’ll be fine.”

“I know,” Mark rambles. “But—” Donghyuck cuts him off with a pinch to his nose.

“You. Will. Be. _Fine_.” The other says slowly, shaking his head in amusement. Mark just exhales, nodding to himself as he grabs his bag and keys, making his way to the door.

“You coming?” He asks curiously, when Donghyuck doesn’t show signs of moving.

“I’ll stay here,” Donghyuck says airily, waving his hands in attempt to shoo Mark out the door. “I don’t want to distract you, and,” he fixes Mark with a glare. “I trust you not to get yourself killed in a lecture hall.”

“Okay, okay,” Mark reassures him quickly. “Will do.” He feels oddly disappointed at the thought of Donghyuck not following him, but he pushes the thought away immediately.

“Good luck!” Donghyuck yells, as Mark opens the door and steps into the hallway.

“Thanks!” He calls back, grinning. “Have fun all alone.”

“I _will_, thank you very much,” he hears Donghyuck mutter petulantly before the door swings shut and he locks it behind him. With a heavy sigh, he makes his way down the elevator and out his apartment complex, heading towards the university. He has a midterm to pass, and a two-hour block of frantic scantron bubbling still ahead of him.

When Mark returns to his apartment several hours later, he feels childishly excited, as if he’s walking on air. There’s no good reason he should feel like such a jumble of nerves, really.

“Hi,” Mark says, just a little giddy as he steps inside. Donghyuck hums quietly from where he’s curled up in front of the TV.

“Hey,” Donghyuck replies, almost sleepily, and Mark’s heart does a funny little dance. “How did the test go?”

“Aced it,” Mark announces proudly, voice a little too loud for the dim room and the relaxed atmosphere. He pulls out his phone and unlocks it, flashing Donghyuck the bright 92% it reads on his portal. Donghyuck straightens up slightly and smiles, eyes crinkling and cheeks rounding. Mark stares unabashedly, too tired to stop himself.

“See, knew you would,” Donghyuck scoffs. Then, looking up at him suddenly, “I got you a gift to celebrate.” Mark blinks, surprise hitting him before its followed by a wave of warmth.

“You shouldn’t have,” he says, shaking his head but still smiling.

“Uh-huh,” Donghyuck says sarcastically. “Here,” he pats the spot on the couch next to him. “Sit down.” Mark complies easily, sighing as he feels the tension in his body ease a little when he relaxes against the cushion. A feeling of deep content settles over him before he is hit with a very sudden realization.

“Wait,” he starts, sitting up and staring at Donghyuck. “How could you have gotten a gift? No one can see you. You don’t even have,” his brows furrow, “you don’t even have money.”

“Yeah, dumbass,” Donghyuck laughs loudly, before turning to him with a sparkle in his eyes. “I didn’t spend a dime.”

“Wh—” Mark shuts up abruptly when Donghyuck leans in and kisses him, soft and gentle and warm and _oh_. Pure peace fills the apartment for several moments. Before the angel can pull away, Mark curls a hand around the back of his neck and kisses back, smiling into it ever so slightly. Donghyuck makes a small noise that sounds like something between a gasp and a sigh, and Mark has never felt more at home in his life.

His brain desperately wants to go into overdrive, alarms ready to go off at any second with unanswered questions cropping up in all the nooks and crannies of his mind. Mark ignores all of them in favor of focusing on Donghyuck, warm and solid against him. Donghyuck swipes his tongue shyly against the seam of Mark’s lips and Mark is _gone_, floating high and far above reality. 

“Um,” Donghyuck whispers when they pull apart. His lips are pink and he swallows, not looking at Mark. “Okay, so—”

“I like you,” Mark blurts out immediately. Donghyuck looks at him, eyes softening instantly before he gently flicks Mark on the forehead.

“I know, idiot.” He says affectionately, taking Mark’s hand in his. “I like you too.”

“Oh,” Mark replies stupidly. He licks his lips, staring at Donghyuck’s mouth as he waits for his brain to catch up. “Um,” he starts hesitantly. “Is this—like—allowed?” Donghyuck gives him a weird look, his hand playing with the hair at the nape of Mark’s neck. “I mean,” Mark licks his lips again, and Donghyuck’s eyes follow the movement shamelessly. “You’re my guardian angel, and like, I’m supposed to—”

“Mark,” Donghyuck cuts in seriously, before leaning in. “Shut up for just a second.”

He presses his mouth to Mark’s again, and Mark feels all the fight drain out of his body as his eyes flutter shut and he kisses back eagerly, happy to stop thinking for a second. Donghyuck presses harder against him, licking into his mouth with intent. Dizzily, Mark wonders how Donghyuck is so _good_ at this. As the seconds tick by, Mark still distracted by Donghyuck’s lips on his, the angel’s hands creep up under the hem of his shirt and slide along his bare skin. Donghyuck’s hands are cold as they dance lightly across his abdomen, but Mark feels hot, shaky, feverish—

“Donghyuck,” he whispers seriously, swallowing as he pulls back.

“What,” Donghyuck sighs out, clearly annoyed. He looks at Mark, lips swollen and cheeks flushed. His fingers stay put where they are, drawing little circles near Mark’s waistband. It’s all _terribly_ distracting, but Mark’s conscience nags at him relentlessly.

“Is this okay?” He asks quietly, not bothering to elaborate. Donghyuck lets out a long exhale and untangles himself from Mark, settling against the couch again. It’s cold; unthinkingly, he reaches for Donghyuck again.

“The short answer is yes,” Donghyuck says, lacing his fingers with Mark’s and looking down at their hands. “The longer answer is—no, probably not.” Mark feels his stomach drop, and hunts for Donghyuck’s eyes, frowning. But he doesn’t ask why, because he _knows_ why. Instead, Mark lets silence fall onto the both of them, Donghyuck still playing with Mark’s fingers.

“Am I gonna turn into an angel, too?” Mark wonders aloud suddenly, the idea striking him like lightning. Donghyuck’s fingers freeze their movement on his knuckles.

“I’ve thought about it before,” he admits reluctantly, sighing, and Mark’s heart thuds in his chest. “They told me people who become guardian angels after they die are typically those who still had strong attachments to life, or something, so the feelings of dissatisfaction propel them onto this path.” Donghyuck rolls his eyes a little. “I didn’t even think I had that strong of an attachment, though.” 

“Maybe _I_ do,” Mark says, bold and a little hopeful. Donghyuck raises a brow.

“Confident, aren’t we,” he teases, laughing quietly.

“You never know,” Mark replies immediately, heart soaring. But Donghyuck just gives him long, quiet look.

“We’ve never had a new angel that remembers having their own guardian before, though,” Donghyuck lets out finally, pressing his lips into a thin line. “So either than means you won’t be able to become one, or, even if you do, you forget everything. I don’t know,” Donghyuck rubs at his face tiredly. “The transition after death to whatever this is—” he gestures at himself. “It’s shoddy; some angels don’t even have their human memories like I do.”

“Oh,” Mark says numbly, voice barely audible. Disappointment seeps into his bones, settling under his skin uncomfortably. “Okay, then.”

“Hey,” Donghyuck interjects firmly. He swings one leg around to bracket Mark’s hips, straddling him on the couch and Mark blinks up at him, lips parting. “Just don’t think about it, okay?” And then he swoops in again, stealing Mark’s mouth, and _fine_, they can play it this way too, Mark thinks sluggishly, reluctantly sweeping all his unspoken thoughts under the rug.

He pulls Donghyuck in tight, heart thrumming in his chest at the way the other sighs softly against his mouth. It’s almost addicting, the confidence Donghyuck exudes as he presses their chests flush against each other. The other sneaks his hands back under his shirt as Mark cards his fingers slowly through Donghyuck’s hair, content.

When they pull away for air, Mark takes his time drinking in Donghyuck’s appearance. His messy hair, spit-slick lips, and lazy smile. Mark stares and stares and _stares_, wondering distantly how it would ever be possible to forget someone so bright.

+

_“How were midterms? Did you get enough sleep? Please tell me you’re eating enough.”_

“I’m okay, mom, I promise,” Mark laughs into the phone. He picks at the rip in his jeans. “Midterms were good; I got all A’s but calc was so _hard_, god. I wish I had taken more math back in high school like you told me to.”

_“Yah! I told you so!” _His mom’s indignant voice comes out through the receiver.

“Sorry,” Mark giggles, holding the phone closer. Donghyuck looks up briefly from where he’s laying on Mark’s bed, and Mark takes a moment to smile appreciatively at the new green hoodie Donghyuck is wearing, courtesy of Mark’s closet. The other grins in response.

_“—ung. Minhyung?”_

“Huh?” Mark blinks, taking his eyes off of Donghyuck.

_“I was asking you if you’ve found anyone yet? A girlfriend? Boyfriend?”_ His mom nags at him, asking the same old question she’s been asking since sophomore year, and Mark for once, is silent. _“Minhyung?”_

A swirl of unexpected emotion hits him. Maybe he should tell his mom about Donghyuck. He’s going to die soon anyways, right? She would never get the chance to even ask to see him. Oh, _god_, he’s going to die soon. Is this going to be the last time he hears his mom’s voice? He didn’t even get to go home for Christmas time this year. _Fuck_, he’s such a bad son.

“Sorry,” Mark says, looking down at his lap and clearing his throat roughly. “Um.” Theres a shuffling noise and when he looks up, he’s suddenly met with the sight of Donghyuck dancing exaggeratedly along to a Twice song, hopping around Mark’s room and mouthing the lyrics obnoxiously. He snorts, surprised.

_“Minhyung! Are you laughing! Oh my god, there is someone, isn’t there?”_

“No, no, no, no, mom, no—” Mark hurriedly tries to cover up, clutching the phone closer. _Cheer up, baby,_ Donghyuck mouths ridiculously, passionately waving his arms as he proceeds to act like the tenth member of Twice. Mark _wheezes_.

_“Minhyung,"_ comes his mom’s warning voice. _“Don’t try to lie to me.”_

“Okay, there—there is,” Mark says, stumbling over his words. “There’s, um, there’s someone I—I kind of like.” Donghyuck pauses mid-dance to look at Mark, eyebrows raised. Mark motions for him come over with a wave of his hands.

_“That’s great, Minhyung. I knew you would find someone eventually.”_ Mark just nods quietly along to his mom’s words, watching as Donghyuck comes to sit on the floor near his desk and leans his head against Mark’s knees.

“I like him a lot,” Mark tells his mom honestly, purposefully tangling his fingers in Donghyuck’s hair. “But I’m scared we’re not going to work out.” Donghyuck elbows his knee forcefully and Mark bites back a squeak.

_“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m sure it’ll work out just fine. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their lives.” _

“Thanks, mom,” Mark laughs, heart warm.

_“You sound tired, I won’t keep you any longer. Don’t sleep too late, okay?”_ His mom frets over the phone and Mark just smiles quietly.

“I won’t,” he promises. “Love you, mom.”

_“Love you too_,” she replies earnestly, before the line goes dead. Mark stares at his phone blankly, doing his best not to wonder if he’ll ever hear her voice ever again.

“You and your mom are so cute,” Donghyuck sighs from below him. Mark just hums in response.

“Why’d you start dancing?” He asks, huffing out a laugh. “Twice, really?”

“Oh sorry,” Donghyuck shoots back instantly. “Did you want Red Velvet? Blackpink? I take requests, for your information.” Mark just rolls his eyes and kicks at him, grinning when Donghyuck yelps, moving away from him and diving back onto his bed.

“I _mean_,” Mark tries. “I almost started laughing on the phone.”

“You looked sad,” is all Donghyuck says in response, shrugging. “I thought _Cheer Up_ was appropriate, you know?” Mark snorts.

“Thanks,” he replies dryly, but it’s genuine. “You—” he starts, before a wide yawn interrupts his words.

“Ah,” Donghyuck says wisely, glancing at the clock. “It’s Markie’s bedtime now.” Mark just yawns again, suddenly too sleepy to come up with any sarcastic comments. He tosses Donghyuck his phone, to which the other makes a noise of delight, before trudging into the bathroom to quickly wash his face and brush his teeth.

When he steps out with a clean face and minty breath, he spies Donghyuck idly playing an old game on his phone, nestled comfortably under his blanket. A warm feeling spreads in his chest at the fact that Donghyuck has been staying later and later every night, waiting for Mark to fall asleep before he vanishes completely. He switches the light off abruptly and Donghyuck squeaks in surprise.

“Sorry,” Mark apologizes, laughing a little as he settles under his covers, pressing his side against Donghyuck.

“S’okay,” Donghyuck mumbles back absentmindedly. He helpfully turns Mark’s phone off and plugs it into the charger for him, before settling back comfortably in bed and tangling their legs together.

“What were some of the other people you helped?” Mark asks quietly, lost in thought. “Before me?”

“There were a lot,” Donghyuck huffs. Mark feels a pinch to his arm. “Don’t get jealous.”

“I won’t,” Mark retorts with a roll of his eyes.

“Heeyeon was the probably the most memorable,” Donghyuck starts, and Mark can already hear his focus drifting, nostalgia sneaking its way into his voice. “She was only six, you know. But she was diagnosed with leukemia and she spent all her time just sitting in the hospital.” He sighs. “But I told you before, usually people don’t see their guardian angels until the moments before they’re about to die.”

“So she couldn’t see you,” Mark guesses. Donghyuck hums.

“I still had to watch over her though, from the angel realm. It _sucked_; I wanted to be able to, like, play with her and stuff. She was six, for fuck’s sake.” Donghyuck lets out a tired noise. “She deserved so much more.”

_So did you_, Mark bites back. It’s a difficult line to walk, talking to Donghyuck. Asking him about his human memories seems insensitive, taboo even. But asking him about his time as an angel doesn’t seem to be much better.

“I’m sorry,” he says instead. Donghyuck sighs again.

“Let’s not talk about me,” the angel reasons, patting Mark lightly on the thigh. “Let’s talk about you, cutie.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Mark deflects, lips pulling into a pout. His fingers dance along the curve of Donghyuck’s neck and the other leans gently into his touch.

“Uh,” Donghyuck says incredulously. “Yeah right. I’ve literally lost track of all your friends. Okay, wait, who was the Japanese guy you hung out with last week? Yuto? Wait, no—Yato?”

“Yuta,” Mark laughs. “You were close.”

“And, _and_,” Donghyuck starts, slapping Mark’s arm as he remembers something. “You’re friends with _Lee Taeyong_? And _Jung Jaehyun_? Like, what the heck?”

“Dude,” Mark sputters. “It’s not _that_ big of a deal. It’s just because I was on the dance team freshman year.” He pauses, thinking. “And I’m in a lot of clubs, I guess, it’s just fun to meet new people and stuff,” he finishes, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly.

“_Dude,_” Donghyuck drawls back mockingly. “Just admit it. You’re _popular_. I can’t believe I didn’t know who you were when I was still in college.” He cranes his neck upwards, and Mark can barely make out the grin he has on his face in the dark, moonlight glinting off his teeth. “Who would’ve thought,” he whispers slyly, pulling Mark’s ear, “that I’d get to have Mr. Popular all to myself.”

He presses his lips to Mark’s jaw, planting a small kiss there and running his hand quietly through Mark’s hair. When Mark leans in to steal his lips, though, Donghyuck just pushes him away with a palm to his face.

“Hey,” Mark practically whines. “That’s not fair.”

“Actually,” Donghyuck hums, lost in thought and completely ignoring him. “I was wondering: how did you and Jeno meet? You guys seem like really good friends.”

“Oh,” Mark says, surprised. It’s been a while since anyone had asked him that question. He forgives Donghyuck momentarily in favor of flipping through the familiar memories in his mind. “We met in high school, actually. He was my first friend after I moved here.”

“Aw,” Donghyuck coos. He squishes Mark’s cheeks together. “Tell me more.”

So Mark does, chuckling as he recounts how his teacher had first introduced him as a foreign student from Canada. The class had been respectful, welcoming, and warm, and Jeno has flashed him a friendly smile when Mark took a seat next to him.

_New York is pretty, yes?_ Jeno had asked him in truly atrocious English, trying his best to make conversation. And Mark had burst out laughing, his face hurting.

_New York isn’t in Canada,_ he had replied in perfect Korean, still smiling. Jeno blinked at him once, twice, before breaking out into an embarrassed grin.

_I'm garbage at geography_, he admitted sheepishly. And then, straightening up, he introduced himself as _Lee Jeno_.

Their friendship had been effortless from there on out, the two of them sticking together despite their one year age difference. Mostly in part because they had put Mark in a grade level below his actual age, he recounts in mild annoyance.

He starts rambling, at some point, drowsily telling Donghyuck stupid stories about his high school adventures and all the times he utterly blanked on his Korean at critical moments. Donghyuck just laughs along quietly into Mark’s chest, curling himself in closer and playing with the drawstrings of Mark’s hoodie.

“Go to sleep,” Donghyuck tells him gently a while later, when Mark is dizzily fading in and out of consciousness, trying his best to stay awake.

“Mmkay,” he replies, eyelids drooping as the world fades from his vision. “G’night.”

“Goodbye,” Donghyuck whispers. His voice sounds far away, distant, as Mark wrestles with sleep. He feels lips pressed to his forehead for a moment, before the feeling goes away. A small part of Mark struggles for a moment in confusion at Donghyuck’s words, before he gives up. _I’ll see him tomorrow_, is the last thing he thinks of before sleep whisks him away.

+

The sight of his green hoodie, folded neatly and sitting on his kitchen counter hits him like a slap to the face. Mark sucks in a deep, unsteady breath, dread pooling in his stomach.

Donghyuck is nowhere to be seen. The angel hadn’t been there when he woke up, hadn’t been hiding in the corner of his room trying to scare him, hadn’t been singing from the kitchen. Mark’s apartment is, for once, completely silent and it’s _awful_.

He curses.

Something tells him Donghyuck isn’t coming back. For a few painful minutes, he rests his head in his arms on the countertop and tries to think. He wonders, briefly, if Donghyuck is still watching him from wherever he is now.

“You could’ve at least left a note,” Mark says pointedly into the silence. Immediately, he rubs at his face, feeling stupid. A quick glance at the clock reminds him that he has class in half an hour, and Mark trudges back to his bedroom, heart hollow.

The silence becomes too suffocating at some point, so he reluctantly puts on a playlist as he gets ready to leave his apartment, but there’s evidence of Donghyuck _everywhere_. It’s the stray Michael Jackson song he doesn’t remember adding, it’s the random doodles on the corner of his notebook, it’s the sight of his guitar, still propped up against his bedroom wall, that tugs at Mark’s heartstrings like they’re made of putty.

After he finishes changing and packing his backpack, Mark quietly walks his guitar back to the storage closet near his front door. He stares at it for a few seconds, a weight in his chest, before shaking himself out of it and gingerly placing it back in the dark. The closet door shuts firmly, and with a determined inhale of breath he grabs his keys and walks out his apartment, heading to class.

One day passes, and then two, and Donghyuck doesn’t return. Mark falls into his daily routine of class, studying, hanging out, and the occasional party, but familiarity doesn’t feel as comfortable as it used to. There’s a hole, an obvious one, in his day-to-day life, and there’s absolutely no way to fix it. Mark eats his cereal alone in the mornings, entertaining himself with only the occasional Youtube video or round of Candy Crush.

“You okay, dude?” Yukhei asks one day, worry lacing his expression as he peers at Mark. “You seem kinda down, lately.”

“I’m okay,” Mark replies instantly, sitting up straighter. His coffee sits on the table, barely touched. “I’m just a little tired.”

“Don’t stay up too late watching Youtube,” Yukhei jokingly reprimands him, pushing his shoulder gently. Mark grins, heart easing up a little.

“Says you,” he teases back.

“No, but listen,” Yukhei says seriously, pouting. “My film professor assigned us this _long-ass_ paper about differences between Korean movies and other foreign films, and I, no seriously, listen, how the _hell_ am I supposed to understand a goddamn Spanish movie, when I can’t even understand a Korean movie! Do you know how hard it is to find Chinese subtitles? _In this economy?_ No, Mark, _stop laughing_, do you know how many all-nighters I’ve pulled in the past two weeks alone—”

_I’m okay_, Mark thinks to himself. _It’s okay._

He agrees to get dinner with Jeno, Renjun, and Chenle on a warm Friday night after classes. It’s a nice change of pace, hanging out with Renjun and Chenle for once. The two of them are all giggles and smiles, and more than once Chenle’s loud, screeching laughter attracts the attention of other customers in the restaurant. He wishes Donghyuck could’ve witnessed it. 

“But really,” Renjun is saying dramatically, looking at Mark. “I used to think Jeno was so scary. I was literally afraid of him for a while, you know?”

“So was I,” Chenle says solemnly, nodding along.

“How was I scary,” Jeno complains loudly, lips pulling into a pout. “I am _so_ not scary. I’m like, the least scary person ever. I don’t understand.”

“Yeah,” Mark laughs loudly. “He thought New York was in _Canada_ the first time we met.” He’s met with hearty laughter around the table, Jeno sighing a little in embarrassment at the memory.

“Now we all know the truth,” Renjun half-whispers to Mark and Chenle. “Jeno’s just a big baby.”

“Hey,” Jeno protests again. Chenle dissolves in giggles, and Mark just grins. Renjun’s sarcastic comments and constant, quirking eyebrow remind him irrevocably of Donghyuck, so much so it’s hard not to think of the angel whenever Renjun speaks. The reminder is a slight buzz of hurt in the back of his throat, but he swallows it harshly, determined to ignore it.

The rest of the dinner passes by smoothly, the four of their personalities meshing seamlessly together as they eat, laugh a little too loudly, and repeat. They sit for so long at their booth that eventually, a waitress comes up and tells them not-so-kindly that the restaurant is already closed, to which they hastily apologize and stand up, biting back muffled laughter. It leaves a warm feeling in Mark’s chest as they stumble out of the restaurant onto the dark streets, still giggling.

“We can walk you back to your apartment,” Jeno says, while wrapping his arms around Renjun. The other squirms in response, trying to break free, and Mark just exchanges a roll of the eyes with Chenle. It’s a _little_ cute, Mark admits quietly to himself, how perfectly Renjun seems to fit in Jeno’s arms.

“I’m okay,” Mark insists, waving his hands. He glances down at his phone. _11:12 pm_, it tells him. “It’s late, you guys should get back.”

“Hyung, we should walk you precisely _because_ it’s late,” Chenle points out, quirking his lips. Renjun and Jeno make noises of agreement.

“I’m fine,” Mark says firmly again. “The dorms are in the opposite direction of my apartment anyways, I don’t want you guys to get back even later. Jeno has practice tomorrow morning, right?” Jeno bites his lip at that, exchanging a worried look with Renjun.

“Are you sure?” He asks Mark worriedly.

“A hundred percent,” he repeats. “Seriously.” Renjun shifts ever so slightly to check the time on his phone, and Mark makes out the bright yellow keychain hanging from his backpack under the dim streetlights. He swallows, eyes glued to the little sun dangling off his zipper.

“Fine,” Jeno sighs out finally. “Text me when you get home, okay?” He fixes him with a slight pout, and Mark just nods, grinning as he pinches Jeno’s cheek in return. The three of them bid him a noisy goodbye, yelling at him to be safe as they head back towards the campus dorms. Mark watches fondly as they walk away, Jeno and Renjun hand in hand. He sighs a little before zipping up his jacket and turning around to head back to his apartment.

The streets are practically empty at this hour, with only one or two silhouettes milling around in the distance. He’s grateful he knows the way back by heart, his feet expertly taking him on the path back to his apartment. As the silence settles over him, his thoughts drift stubbornly back to Donghyuck. He purses his lips as the other boy’s bright grin and soft hair creep back into his mind. In a fit of frustration, he jams his earbuds in and cranks the volume up, trying to dispel any and every thought of the angel with an upbeat Maroon 5 song.

Donghyuck almost feels like a weird, fever dream that he had hallucinated. He had appeared so suddenly in Mark’s life, taking it by storm, before disappearing just as quickly. There were still so many things left that Mark didn’t get the chance to ask him, or rather, didn’t have the courage to. _Where was he born?_ he wonders curiously. _Siblings? Favorite food?_ _Wonder how he and Renjun met._

Mark is still frowning, lost in thought when he crosses the street at a familiar intersection. His apartment is only a block away, now. He glares at his shoes, trying not to think about what Donghyuck is doing now.

“LOOK OUT!” Someone yells. Mark’s head snaps up, confused, and then he’s suddenly met with the blinding headlights of a car. Pain shoots through his entire body and for a split second, he feels himself flying, his body weightless, before he crashes down, _hard_, on the road. Mark chokes as his vision starts to swim. _Hurts, hurts, hurts,_ is all his brain is registering. He can’t feel his arms. He can’t feel his legs. _No, no no no no no, no, no. Not yet, _he thinks panickedly. 

Someone’s hands are on him. “Stay with me,” he hears a foreign voice say. “Oh god, c’mon, _please_.”

_I’m trying_, he wants to say back. But his lungs feel like they’ve been strangled, chopped in half. His heart starts to slow down in his chest, turning into a low thud. A heavy sensation presses down on him, and his consciousness struggles against it. But he’s being weighed down, crushed, flattened into the street—

Then the pain stops. Blood runs languidly through his body, sweet and unhurried like honey. It’s _comfortable_, almost. He feels sleepy—when was the last time he got more than eight hours? Mark feels like he’s floating on air. _It’s so bright_, he thinks dizzily.

The last thing he hears is a soft, familiar voice humming gently in his ear.


	2. you can bet i'll know every line (epilogue)

“You’re a fast learner,” Doyoung remarks, impressed. “Most angels are more overwhelmed at the beginning.”

“Oh,” Mark says nervously, palms sweaty. “I, um, I had a guardian angel when I was—I was alive.” Doyoung turns to him at that, eyes filled with surprise.

“Huh,” the older says, thinking to himself. “That’s rare. So you were a special case, huh?”

“Yeah,” Mark admits, swallowing. He shoots a hesitant look at Doyoung. “Um, when do you think I can meet the other angels?” Doyoung gives him a curious look, staring at him for just long enough that Mark starts squirming under his gaze, looking at anywhere else but the other.

“Do you remember your angel’s name?” Doyoung asks. His eyes are slightly narrowed, like he knows something Mark doesn’t.

“I—I don’t remember,” Mark bursts out helplessly. “I—something must have happened when I died but I _know_—I know I’ll recognize him if I see him, please, I—I remember everything else except his name, but I think I’ll remember if I just—”

“Okay, okay, slow down,” Doyoung steadies his shoulders, looking at him in the eye. “Don’t worry, a lot of us went through a little temporary amnesia when we first died, so it’s normal to have a patchy memory.” He looks at Mark thoughtfully, and Mark almost spies the faintest of smiles dancing across his lips. “It’s okay, I’ll introduce you to the others now.”

“Thank you,” Mark says genuinely, anxiousness taking over him as he follows Doyoung through a set of double doors. He tries his best not to marvel stupidly at his surroundings, but nothing looks different at all; it’s almost like he’s just in another one of Seoul’s tall skyscrapers. Doyoung leads him into what looks like a large office, and he spies a group of guys around his age sitting around an open lounge area.

“Alright everyone,” Doyoung announces loudly. Instantly, heads are raised and Mark immediately wants to run away as he feels countless pairs of eyes being pinned to him. “We have a new angel; his name is Mark—please treat him well!”

There’s a chorus of _nice to meet you_’s that echo around the room, and Mark’s head starts spinning at the sheer number of faces that are directed towards him.

“Hi,” Mark introduces himself, doing his best to smile. “It’s nice to meet you all.” His eyes dart distractedly around the room, trying desperately to search for a familiar face among the swarm of people, but he feels disappointment settling in under his skin. There’s _no way_—

“Donghyuck,” Doyoung calls out. Mark jolts. “Can you show Mark around?”

_Donghyuck_, Mark’s brain sings suddenly. _Donghyuck._ He turns the name over in his mouth. It’s Donghyuck. Caramel skin and dark, messy brown hair greet him, a familiar set of eyes sparkling as they meet Mark’s gaze.

“This way,” is all Donghyuck says, grabbing Mark’s hand and dragging him away from the others. Mark resists the urge to pull Donghyuck in immediately. Instead, he follows Donghyuck in a daze as the other yanks him into an empty room, locking the door behind them. Then, _finally_, Donghyuck turns and looks at him fully. He’s still wearing his stupid purple hoodie but Mark has never been happier to see it in his life. 

“Hi,” Mark says dumbly, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt. But instead of smiling back, Donghyuck’s face goes curiously blank as he looks up at Mark in confusion.

“I’m sorry,” Donghyuck lets out slowly. “Do I know you?”

Mark’s expression _crumbles_, his stomach sinking instantly as unadulterated panic begins to overtake him. _This isn’t happening,_ his brain chants endlessly. He bites his lips, tears welling up and burning hot behind his eyes, before he chokes out, “You—”

“Oh my god,” Donghyuck mutters, wrapping his arms around Mark instantly. “I was _joking_, don’t cry on me, please, fuck—I’m sorry.” Mark swallows, gripping Donghyuck tightly. The other fits perfectly against him, just like he remembers, and he takes a moment to breathe all of Donghyuck in, resting his cheek against the other’s soft hair as he slowly calms down.

Then he pinches the back of Donghyuck’s neck, _hard_.

“I hate you,” he mutters under his breath, letting out a satisfied noise when Donghyuck screeches in his ear.

“It’s what you get for taking so long,” Donghyuck retorts easily, and suddenly it’s like they’re back in Mark’s room again, bickering and bantering like nothing had happened at all. He pulls back just a bit, eyes flitting all across Mark’s face, searching. “I’m sorry,” he says again, and Mark knows he’s apologizing for a lot more than just a prank. “Are you—are you alright?”

Mark wrestles Donghyuck back into his arms and holds him close to his chest. He pushes aside the burning questions he has on his tongue for a moment to just hug Donghyuck tighter. The other lets out a sigh of content as he absentmindedly draws shapes on Mark’s back. Mark can’t feel his heart beating, but he _can_ feel the sense of peace, the giddy happiness, the oozing feeling of love that washes over him.

“Yeah,” Mark hums a little, smiling into Donghyuck’s neck. “I’m alright.”

**Author's Note:**

> is this just one big thought experiment abt death and human existence disguised as a markhyuck fic? perhaps. am i mad about it? absolutely not. if u made it this far you are amazing and I LOVE YOU. i had so, so, SO much fun writing this fic. it is my beautiful baby, my angel child, my full sun if i do say so myself; and as always, kudos and comments are hugely appreciated!!
> 
> work title from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sC3flbXgRnc), chapter titles from [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NSl6jd0r9Vk), and i religiously listened to this [gem](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sXJ2hajo6rw) while writing ♡


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